


The Shieldmaiden, the Archers and the Truth

by jedisapphire



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 04:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4005673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jedisapphire/pseuds/jedisapphire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Minas Tirith, shortly after the fall of Sauron, Éowyn has her first encounter with the Elves who will (although none of them knows it yet) become far better friends when they all dwell in Ithilien.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shieldmaiden, the Archers and the Truth

Éowyn looked at the two she-Elves with open admiration.

Envy was an emotion she seldom felt. She had known a brief moment of regret for the love Aragorn could not give her, for the mysterious, absent Elf-maiden who had stolen his heart. But that had passed, and that had been sorrow more than envy.

What she felt now was envy.

The ellith were clad in the same green and brown tunic and leggings that Legolas favoured, and they carried bows, knives and full quivers – carried them with the ease of those accustomed to bearing arms. They, clearly, had never been told that war was not the province of women, never been sent to hide in the mountains with the children while their menfolk won glory in the defence of their home.

"Do you want to meet them?"

Éowyn looked up in surprise, and saw that her interest had not been unobserved. Aragorn was smiling at her, half-amused, but his offer to introduce her to the Elves was serious.

Éowyn could not help her eager nod.

"Come, then." He raised his voice. "Aeroniel! Rochendilwen!"

The Elves turned, and he drew Éowyn forward. "This is Lady Éowyn, daughter of Éomund. Éowyn, Aeroniel and Rochendilwen are archers of the Woodland Realm."

"Lady Éowyn?" the one called Rochendilwen said, smiling. She spoke Westron with a rhythmic, lilting cadence that Éowyn found oddly soothing. "The Shieldmaiden of Rohan. Legolas has written to us of your valour and high deeds. He tells us you slew the Witch-king of Angmar, who could be harmed by neither Man nor Elf. You have won much glory, my lady. Your name will be remembered by Elvenkind."

Éowyn blushed at the praise.

"You… you are warriors?" she asked.

"We are archers," confirmed Aeroniel.

"They are not merely archers," Aragorn laughed. "They are among the most skilled archers I have ever seen – the strongest defence of the Woodland Realm against the Shadow. You should ask for a demonstration, Éowyn… Lord Thorontur – he is the Elf now speaking to Faramir – is the Archery Master of Greenwood. He would be happy to arrange it."

"Eryn Lasgalen," Rochendilwen said. When Aragorn raised an eyebrow, she repeated, "Eryn Lasgalen. Not Greenwood. The realm has a new name for a new Age."

Aragorn, to Éowyn's surprise, laughed again, this time with warm affection. "Thranduil dotes upon his son."

"The Elven-king has children?" Éowyn asked.

The two Elves turned to her with what could only be described as astonishment.

"Éowyn has heard little about your realm and less about Thranduil," Aragorn told them, before either of them could say anything. "You know how reserved Legolas can be when he chooses."

"Indeed." Aeroniel's eyes were gleaming; Éowyn had an odd feeling they were gleaming with mischief, but she did not know whether to believe that. Could Elves be mischievous? "Legolas has told you little about our home, then, Lady Éowyn?"

"I know he is an archer in the service of your King. He told me little else. I… I would be happy to hear anything you could tell me of it."

"Of course… And where is Legolas, Estel? I had hoped he would be here to meet us."

"We did not know to expect you today. He and my brothers have gone riding. They will return in the evening. He will be delighted to see you – he has been most anxious about events in the Woodland Realm."

"At least we have glad tidings for him." Rochendilwen's smile was wicked. "That may encourage him to forgive us."

"Forgive you?" Éowyn could not help asking. "Have you done something to displease him?"

Rochendilwen laughed. "Not yet, but I wager that, before he returns, we would have done. Do you not agree, Aeroniel?"

The Elves exchanged a smile with the ease of long comradeship. Éowyn felt a pang for something she would never know. She had won honour in the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, and she did not think that any would now dispute her right to bear a sword, even if she chose never to ride into battle again. But, slayer of Nazgûl or not, she would never have brothers – or sisters – in arms. Nobody would reminisce with her about battles lost and won, nobody would bicker with her about who had claimed more enemies or who wielded a broadsword with greater skill.

Rochendilwen, half-turning, called to one of the other warriors, "Saeldur!"

Saeldur turned out to be a dark-haired ellon with warm grey eyes. "What is it?"

"Have you met Lady Éowyn of Rohan?"

"No, but I have heard much about her valour." Saeldur's smile was just as friendly and merry as Legolas'. "I am honoured to meet you, Lady Éowyn."

"Lady Éowyn, despite having kept company with Legolas all these weeks, has heard little about the Woodland Realm," Aeroniel said, an odd quiver in her voice. "Legolas told her no more than that he was an archer in the service of our King."

"Lady Éowyn has heard nothing," Rochendilwen went on, looking at Aragorn for confirmation, "of the valour of our heroic warrior-prince."

Aragorn laughed. "I trust the three of you can remedy that. Éowyn – remember, I had nothing to do with this. I am just an innocent bystander listening to the tales spun by the youth of the Eldar."

"If you think that will save you, Estel…" Saeldur shook his head. "But I was given to understand you are called Elessar, now."

"I will always be Estel to the Eldar. Go on, though, Saeldur."

Saeldur's smile turned gleeful. "The prince is my kinsman," he told Éowyn, "and one of my dearest friends. We have fought side by side since he came of age."

"He commands the King's archers," Rochendilwen added.

"Legolas is one of them?"

"Yes, Legolas is one of the King's archers. I daresay Legolas is closer to the prince than any of us – he could tell you more stories than we could, if he chose."

"But Legolas," Saeldur said, "will almost certainly not choose. He will sing of the beauty of the trees and the stars and the flowing rivers, and of lost Elf-maidens and of battles that even the Eldar cannot remember, but never will he tell even one of the many, many stories he knows about the deeds of our prince."

"Saeldur and I are his seconds," Aeroniel offered. "So, although we do not know as many of the stories as Legolas does, we know most of them."

"Our prince is the finest archer in the Woodland Realm," Rochendilwen said. "And that makes him the finest archer in all of Middle-earth, for although the bowmen of Lórien and Imladris are skilled, they are no match for us."

"I have seen him shoot at Orcs in utter darkness," Saeldur added. "With only their voices to guide him, he shot twelve of them clean through the heart, without a single wasted arrow."

"In a task that all others must surely fail, the War Council will ask the prince to go, with the most trusted of his archers –"

"Which usually includes the three of them," Aragorn interrupted.

"Quite so," Aeroniel said, unperturbed. "The prince trusts us."

"How much he will after this is open to debate. He does not like his praises sung; after all, that is why Legolas seldom speaks of him."

Saeldur chuckled. "The prince is utterly incapable of bearing grudges."

"He is capable of using his bow to good effect."

"At this moment, there is no purpose in worrying about the future," Rochendilwen said cheerfully. "I intend to enjoy the present. All of us, Lady Éowyn, attended the prince's archery trials, and never have I seen a more exemplary showing. Every single arrow flew true –"

"And I have never seen any parents as proud and delighted as the King was that day –"

"Or on many other days," Aeroniel said soberly. "His son is his heart's joy."

"What of the Queen?" The heavy silence that followed her words answered her, and she flushed. "Forgive me, I should not have –"

"It was a natural enough question," Rochendilwen said, but her bright eyes were suddenly dark. "We do not speak of it. The grief will always be too near."

Éowyn looked at Aragorn, who gave her a reassuring smile.

"This is not the time for grief," he said lightly. "The Queen would not want your hearts to be clouded with sorrow in this hour of triumph."

"No," Saeldur said, sighing. Then he brightened. "And our hearts will not be clouded with sorrow. We can tell you many tales of the battles we have fought. And we would hear of your battles as well, if you are inclined to tell us."

Éowyn could not hold back her delighted smile.

* * *

The three Elves were happy to talk to Éowyn as long as she was willing to listen – Éowyn was beginning to believe that a love for storytelling was a trait all Elves shared.

Faramir was occupied with matters of state. With the formal coronation of Elessar approaching, he had much to do. Éomer, though, was free to join them, and he did, as soon as his duties permitted. Her brother was just as eager as she was to hear of battles as Elves fought them, and it had to be admitted that Aeroniel, Rochendilwen and Saeldur knew how to spin exciting tales. Éowyn and Éomer learnt of Orcs and Wargs and of the giant spiders that infested the great forest to the north. More than once, the stories included descriptions of the unmatched bowmanship of their prince, or his skill in wielding the twin knives favoured by the archers of the Woodland Realm.

As much as they told stories, the three Elves were just as eager to hear of the battles at Helm's Deep and the Pelennor Fields, and of what had passed before the Black Gates of Mordor. Éomer, guessing that they were interested in hearing an account of their friend, told them as much as he remembered of what Legolas had done – and if Éomer's praise of Legolas' bowmanship seemed to rival the acclaim the Elves were heaping on their prince's steady hand and keen eye, Éowyn could only suppose that, like all warriors, he did not want his stories to seem less extraordinary than those told by his companions.

Once Éowyn expressed her regret that the prince had not been able to accompany them to witness Elessar's coronation. The three Elves exchanged a glance, and then Saeldur said, "It is true that we would have enjoyed his company on the journey south, but it is likely that he will be in Minas Tirith for the coronation. There are some days yet."

Their conversation continued unabated through most of the afternoon and evening, and was interrupted just before dinner when a page ran in to announce that Legolas and the sons of Elrond had returned from their day's riding.

Éowyn and Éomer joined the three Elven warriors in going to the courtyard to meet them. In the courtyard Lord Thorontur and another she-Elf, who appeared, as far as they could judge, older than Rochendilwen and Aeroniel, were waiting as well.

Barely had Arod, whom Legolas rode bareback, cantered in, than the three young archers ran out to intercept him. As soon as the Elf dismounted, he was seized, shaken, patted down, and addressed by three voices at once in a torrent of Elvish so rapid that Éowyn felt certain even Faramir would not have understood it.

Legolas seemed just as delighted to see his friends as they were to see him. He joined in their chatter, and, when Elladan and Elrohir had dismounted and given their horses to a groom, they did as well.

It was not until Thorontur cleared his throat that Legolas noticed him.

He pulled away from his friends, going to the two older Elves and speaking to them in Sindarin. He spoke more slowly this time, and Éowyn knew enough from the lessons Faramir had given her to tell that he was greeting them formally, and that the she-Elf's name was Ellaurë.

Lord Thorontur laughed, giving Legolas an affectionate smile, and he and Legolas and Ellaurë exchanged a few words. Then, with a pat to his shoulder, Thorontur and Ellaurë went back inside.

Saeldur promptly pounced on Legolas again, dragging his protesting friend to Éowyn and Éomer.

Éowyn could have sat with Faramir at the dinner table, but, having made the acquaintance of three Elves who were willing to trade battle stories with her, she had no desire to forsake their company to spend the evening with courtiers who would stare at her as though a female warrior were as unnatural as a three-headed horse.

Gimli joined them.

Legolas' friends had clearly not heard of his friendship with the Dwarf. As soon as they saw him, Saeldur turned to Legolas and burst into another torrent of Elvish, in which Éowyn thought she detected the name of Gimli's father, Glóin, and something involving a mountain.

Whatever Legolas said in reply, it made Saeldur laugh and say, in Westron this time, "On your own head be it. Do not blame me when the King has your ears." He held out a hand to Gimli. "Gimli son of Glóin, I am Saeldur of the Woodland Realm." Elladan rolled his eyes, and Elrohir stifled a snicker. "Ignore them," Saeldur went on. "They have the manners of Orcs."

"I am Rochendilwen," Rochendilwen put in. "Also of the Woodland Realm. And this is Aeroniel –"

"Of the Woodland Realm?" Gimli asked.

"Do not judge the Firstborn by what you see there, Master Gimli," said Elladan.

"Indeed," agreed Elrohir. "It is only the Elves of the Woodland Realm who run mad. We believe it comes of talking too much to trees."

"Trees make far more interesting companions than dull-witted swordsmen from Imladris," Legolas returned.

"Elbereth!" Elrohir said, looking tragic. "Such ingratitude! What happened to the Elfling whom I taught to shoot?"

"Lord Thorontur will take exception to your claim."

"Lord Thorontur has no grounds for complaint. Master Bainion was your Archery Master; and it was not he who made you your first bow."

Elladan groaned. "You had to set him off," he told Legolas. "We will not hear the end of it now."

"I am only stating facts," Elrohir protested. "And it is a fact that I – I, alone, against the advice of Elves who claimed to be older and wiser – made Legolas' first bow and showed him how to use it. And now, instead of trying to deny my part in the Elfling's skill, what you should do is to –"

"Praise your foresight," Legolas and Elladan chorused together, and all the Elves dissolved into laughter.

The rest of dinner was spent in idle conversation. Afterwards, they were gathered on one of the balconies with cups of wine. At least, the Elves and Éowyn had wine. Gimli muttered something dark about Elves and their drinking habits and fetched himself a tankard of ale. Éomer did not mutter, but he did the same.

"Gimli enjoys drinking games," Legolas said idly, swirling his wine in its cup.

"Gimli has learnt not to engage in drinking games with pointy-eared menaces," growled the Dwarf. "Have you nothing better to speak of?"

Legolas, looking amused, vaulted lightly onto the balcony railing. Éowyn almost exclaimed in alarm, but the expressions of utter unconcern on the Elves' faces gave her pause. Legolas stood on the railing for a moment, looking out over the city, before he turned and sat on it, facing them.

"I would not have fallen," he said, seeing Éowyn's still-nervous expression.

Elrohir snickered. "You once fell out of a tree."

"You were once nearly decapitated by a horse."

"That would not have happened if Elladan had not been so utterly distracted. Is it my fault that my brother cannot see a village without wanting to inspect it?"

"I was only speaking to the village chieftain," Elladan said. "You were the one who insisted on examining his horses."

"They were good horses!"

"Perhaps Éomer can buy horses from them," Legolas added. "They would make excellent breeding stock."

Éomer perked up. "Perhaps I can. Where is the village?"

"In Eriador, not far from the Misty Mountains," said Legolas. "I can tell you the name of the chieftain –"

"You do not know the name of the chieftain," Elrohir pointed out.

Legolas thought for a moment and then nodded ruefully. "That is true. It has not been long since I visited, but he was close to the end of his days when I met him. Perhaps his… grandson?"

"I doubt it," Saeldur said. "Was this not when you spent the summer in Imladris after escorting Lord Laeborn and Lady Riros there so that they could go on to Mithlond? His grandson cannot still be alive."

"At least one of you has sense," Elrohir muttered. "After all this time, Legolas –"

"It has not been that long," Legolas protested.

Éomer looked bemused. "How long has it been?"

Legolas, Elladan and Elrohir looked at each other.

"It was after the end of the Watchful Peace," Legolas said slowly.

"And the Steward of Gondor sent ambassadors to us that summer," Elrohir added. "I remember them distinctly; they both appeared on the verge of falling in love with Lady Riros. Beregond?"

"Belecthor," Elladan said firmly. "I had to read every page of their treaties four times over. It was Belecthor."

"So… something less than three hundred years ago."

"There. You see?" Legolas said cheerfully – and, Éowyn realized, entirely seriously. "Three hundred years. I knew it had not been very long."

Gimli glared at his ale. "Elves!"

"Perhaps," Éomer said tactfully, "you will tell us more about your realm."

Saeldur perked up. "Indeed. And now that Legolas is here, we need not scruple to malign him." At Legolas' questioning glance, he explained, his voice suddenly as smooth as silk, "Lady Éowyn wanted to hear of our battles. We did not want to tell her stories of you in your absence, so we told her instead of the courage of our Elven-prince."

Legolas' eyes narrowed suspiciously. Aeroniel insisted, "We told them nothing about you, Legolas."

"That is so," Éomer said.

"We only spoke of our valiant commander – please ignore the sons of Elrond, Lady Éowyn. They have a disease that makes them laugh at inopportune moments. It affects only the peredhil."

Gimli shook his head, pushed his ale away and got to his feet. "Much as I would like to hear the end of this conversation," he announced, "I am mortal, and I am going to sleep. Emissaries of my Dwarven-lord will arrive tomorrow, and I must receive them. Such a day as I have had! Elves!"

When he had gone, Saeldur turned back to Éowyn and Éomer. "Do you want to hear of our battles?" he asked lightly. "Or perhaps we can tell you of Legolas' childhood follies. We have an ample store of tales of both."

"We might avoid both," Legolas suggested.

"I think we would do better to hear both," Elrohir said. "After all, we are all well acquainted with you and with the son of the Elven-king. Unless Lady Éowyn is weary of hearing of battles –"

Éowyn promptly and truthfully assured him that she was not. She intended to make the most of this opportunity as long as the Elves were in Minas Tirith.

"Which will it be, then, Lady Éowyn?" Rochendilwen asked. "Tales of valour or tales of folly?"

"Perhaps," Éomer said, smiling at Legolas' evident exasperation, "we might alternate, and have one of each. What say you, Legolas?"

Legolas made a gesture of exasperation. "I still say we would do much better to speak of other things."

"Ignore him," Aeroniel said breezily. "He is only grumbling because he has been out riding all day. I believe your suggestion is perfect, Éomer King. We will alternate. Who would like to begin?"

"I will!" Elrohir volunteered. "Lady Éowyn, you will not have heard the story of Legolas, the owl, and the waterfall."

Legolas scoffed and hopped off the railing.

"You are not leaving?" Saeldur asked, sounding genuinely worried.

"As if you would ever let me hear the end of it if I did! I am going to get more wine. If I must subject myself to this, I must have wine."

"Get me a cup as well," Saeldur called after him.

* * *

"… And thus Legolas became the only Elf in the history of the realm to have earned his King's righteous anger by obeying his instructions to the very letter. He did not dare leave the stronghold for days afterward."

"Very good," Legolas said, before someone could volunteer to tell the next story. "Lady Éowyn is tired. We must not make her exert herself."

"I am not tired," Éowyn said. Then, feeling a pang at the thought of how uncomfortable Legolas had looked all evening, "But if you would rather not… We can speak of other things."

In an abrupt realization, it struck her as odd that, while the Elves had told more and more remarkable tales of the Prince of the Woodland Realm and his unrivalled skill with the bow, of Legolas there had only been stories of childhood mischief, almost as though he were a pampered youngling who had never been called upon to do a difficult duty. Yet Éowyn had seen Legolas' bowmanship for herself, and had heard Aragorn describe it in glowing terms.

And, if it came to that, surely the Elven-prince, no matter how devoted to his duty he was, must have done something other than kill Orcs in the long centuries he had lived.

It sounded extraordinarily as though…

"I would not have you believe," Saeldur said, as though guessing her thoughts, "that our Prince knows nothing beyond the battlefield. We would not ride at his call if we had no cause beyond his skill with the bow, even if he is the finest archer in the Elven realms."

"None of us would," Rochendilwen agreed, suddenly serious.

"And," Aeroniel added, "despite how we have made it sound, even he is not a perfect archer – or a perfect warrior. There have been misjudgements and arrows that did not fly true and one memorable occasion when he and Saeldur convinced themselves that they could take on an entire nest of spiders by themselves and emerge without serious injury."

"We follow the Prince of the Woodland Realm," Saeldur said, "and I defy even Legolas to disagree with me, because his spirit is strong enough that all the darkness spreading from Dol Guldur could not quench his cheer, because he is a brother-in-arms as much as he is a commander, and because he does not ask us to trust him without first proving that he will trust us. And for myself, I will say that I am honoured to have his faith and his friendship."

He met Legolas' eyes as he spoke. The look that passed between them confirmed what Éowyn had just begun to suspect.

"You are more than just an archer in the service of the Elven-king," Éomer accused the Elf, coming to the same conclusion. "You did not tell us!"

Legolas smiled, half-amused and half-rueful. "I told you no lies. As you have guessed, Éomer King – and you as well, Lady Éowyn – the King of Eryn Lasgalen is my father as well as my Elven-lord, and I love him dearly. But, notwithstanding any tales my friends may have spun for you, I am an archer in his service, and I have been since I took my oaths as a warrior. That is the truth."

Before Éowyn could respond, she heard footsteps behind her. She turned in her chair to see Lord Thorontur approaching.

"Everybody else is asleep," Thorontur announced.

"That is hardly surprising, Lord Thorontur," said Elladan. "It is past midnight. Men sleep."

"So I have been told, Elrondion. That is not why I am here. I am here because I was told that my young archers have been in their cups."

"It is not the first time that has happened," Aeroniel said. "You are here, my lord, because you could find nobody awake and you wanted our company. And, I would wager, because you wanted to speak to your beloved young bowman, whom you have not seen for months."

Thorontur laughed. "You are shrewd. I do not doubt that you have guessed what I think we should do."

There was a short pause. Then…

"No!" Legolas and Aeroniel said together.

"Lord Thorontur," Rochendilwen pleaded, "we are weary."

"It has been a long day," Saeldur added.

"I have been riding."

"We have all been riding."

"The wine is unusually strong."

"Have you noticed the wind, Lord Thorontur?"

"There are no trees here."

"It is dark."

"The birds are asleep."

"It might rain."

Lord Thorontur waited until the four voices died down. Then, looking at the sons of Elrond, he said, "I do not hear you protesting."

"The last time we protested," Elladan said, "you made us join them. We have learnt our lesson, Lord Thorontur. We will support you completely, if you agree that we will be treated as innocent bystanders."

"I am glad you are my friends," Legolas growled. "And you, Noldo, may be glad I do not have my bow."

"A lack we will remedy immediately," Thorontur said brightly. "Estel told me Minas Tirith has one of the best practice ranges in the Mannish kingdoms. We are going to have archery practice."

"If you were planning to retire for the night, Lady Éowyn," Elladan said, with a saccharine smile in response to Legolas' baleful glare, "you should reconsider. The only sight more entertaining that Lord Glorfindel's weapons training is Lord Thorontur's archery practice."


End file.
